The Ivy Window
I hate him for that night, because his lips turned my gray world to color for the first time. His hands and touch were why the women paraded in front of me never appealed.
I hate him for that night, because his lips turned my gray world to color for the first time. His hands and touch were why the women paraded in front of me never appealed.
"I will help you." I don't promise to save the voice. They sound so small and so afraid. I do not have healing herbs nor magic like Mama. All I have is myself; I hope that's enough.